Human
by EclipseKlutz
Summary: [S1] She wasn't the first to overlook his humanity. LexChloe friendship if nothing else.


**Human  
****By EclipseKlutz**

**K+, PG  
****General/Drama  
**Either pre-Lex/Chloe or friendship, you choose

**Spoilers: s**eason one-ish, but no spoilers.  
**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Ever.

**A/N: **Because it bugged me that Clark never thanks him.

* * *

She wasn't the first to overlook (forget) his humanity, the stiffness of his smile and solidness of his eyes told her as much. The coldness of him, the mechanical element – it was deliberate, designed to smother any warmth and demand respect; it was a defense he must have adopted in childhood and now it was a reflex. He had no inclination to _feel _anything.

Except when he did.

He'd never had the luxury of friends. His reaction to Clark had made this apparent instantly, but it hadn't mattered then – _he_ hadn't mattered then; he was still steel and he was still the man behind an unnerving corporation, and she was a reporter determined to unmask the demon. She hadn't realized that she wasn't unmasking him.

And now he was still steel and still the man behind an unnerving corporation, but he had become an important part of her best friend's life, which thoroughly integrated him into hers despite the weakness of their acquaintance. He went out of his way to help everyone associated with Clark, he did everything in his power (and he had more than she'd initially estimated) to keep them safe and keep them happy – and he had tried to be human. He had tried to prove to themthat he was a good person, if only to convince himself.

And while she suddenly realized that he had never meant for _her_ to see past the metal and wires, she knew that he had meant for Clark to – but Clark didn't. It occurred to her that that was his reason for lingering: he expected nothing from her, no gratitude, no smiles, no friendship, despite everything he had done for her now and so many times before; he remained in the dimly lit office out of courtesy.

"I believe you have a newspaper to put together," he said finally. His tone seemed offhanded and smile casual until she forced herself to look deeper, to see how uncomfortable he was and how indifferent he was simply because he had no expectations.

A frown threatened to pull at her lips, but she maintained her own smile long enough to nod, "I guess I do."

He watched her warily for a long moment, verifying the nagging suspicion that he had caught her staring at him, then offered a business-y nod and an equally business-y, "I'll see you around, Miss Sullivan."

"Um, Lex?" she called, effectively stalling him before he could exit the small room. His chariness became increasingly apparent as she hastily crossed the space between them and leapt at him, and he grew understandably rigid as she did something that she doubted many people had _ever _done to a Luthor before: she hugged him.

She grasped him tightly enough to prevent him from wriggling out of the embrace (though it wasn't technically an _embrace _and she was fairly certain that Luthors didn't _wriggle_) but not to the point of endangering his air supply, and made a point of refusing to let go. He remained stoic, eyeing her as if she were a stray, mutated, rabies-infected mastiff determined to eat him whole. The thought wasn't too far off the mark.

"You realize that you'll never be released if you don't make _some _attempt to hug me back, right?" she said matter-of-factly. When he gave no sign that he intended to reply, she elaborated, "And I have no problem standing here for a few hours; your sweater's soft and you don't smell that bad."

Something in his posture shifted, and she was given the distinct impression that if she were to look at him rather than try to identify the brand of his very comfortable sweater (and whether or not she would ever have enough money to order one as a pillow case), she would see the patented Lex Luthor Glare Of Painful Elongated Death And Financial Discord™.

Finally he sighed, and the abrupt movement of his chest caused her grip to loosen slightly, "Miss Sullivan –"

"Chloe," she corrected absently. "It's kind'a odd to hug someone you're not a first name basis with."

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Nope."

"If I pay you, will you free me?" He was beginning to sound defeated. She took that as a good sign.

"Define 'pay.'"

"Six months of gourmet coffee delivered to your door?"

She groaned, "Lex, you're beginning to sound desperate, so hug me before tomorrow's byline reads 'Billionaire Makes Cheap Bribe.'"

"How is that cheap?" he demanded with a note of incredulity, and she decided that he wasn't as defeated as she had thought – exasperated and possibly slightly amused, but not defeated. Amused was also good, though. "Gourmet coffee is expensive."

"It will not kill you to hug someone," she informed him blatantly, attempting to emphasize her stubbornness without sounding hostile.

He didn't respond, simply looked at her contemplatively for what felt like several minutes but was most likely thirty seconds; his eyes betrayed conflict and his muscles were noticeably tenser, and as she began to wonder for the first time whether or not this had been a remotely good idea, he wrapped his arms around her. It was a surprisingly comfortable hug, she concluded quickly, especially since she was convinced that no billionaire actually _hugged_; embraced, kissed, charmed, and shook hands, sure, but not hugged. Hugs were too relaxed for their lifestyle.

He held her long enough for it to qualify as a decent hug, and managed to withdraw without the awkward stiffness she had expected. She released him in return, stepping back with a wide grin on her face and pointedly ignoring the fact that he was giving her his bewildered stray, mutated, rabies-infected mastiff stare again.

"See? That wasn't so hard," she told him, a hint of playful patronization evident in her voice. He scoffed, but she continued, "And Lex? Thank you."

Again he was silent, and it wasn't until she moved to continue that he spoke, "For what?"

"For this," her sincerity was evident in her voice and earnest expression as she motioned to the room they stood in, the one she had called home for the past two years, the one he had regained for her, "for going far out of your way to return _The Torch _to me even though we hardly know each other and you weren't asked to. Thank you. It… it means a lot."

She couldn't find a way to politely tell him that it made him human, but the look that briefly crossed his face revealed that he hadn't missed her meaning. He stared at her a moment longer, and she realized that she'd said something he had never learned how to respond to.

Just as she was considering returning them to a more familiar conversation, he pulled her into another hug. It was different than the one that had proceeded it, she noted as he rested his chin on the top of her head, and not only because he had been the one to initiate it; there was more emotion and shared reasons, and she understood that he was more human than anyone had thought.


End file.
